California Dreaming
by EHfan
Summary: Hood goes to Stanford to deliver a lecture, but he arranges a surprise for Rachel. NOTE: reposted to reflect formating changes to deal with complaints about read-ability. Thanks to those who pointed out the problem and suggested a solution.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing, figuratively speaking. And I still say this is fair use.

Timeline: This story is set approximately 3 months after "Snow Day"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I still don't see why I couldn't go too," Felix grumbled.

Rachel blew out her breath in exasperation. "For the millionth time, you're not going because this isn't an 'official' trip. Hood's going to Stanford to give a couple of lectures. There's no case; so no recon, no tactical assistance needed."

"I could have gone your place," Felix offered.

"And when did you undergo bodyguard training?" Rachel inquired sarcastically. She grimaced. "I don't know why you want to go. Trust me, I've been to Palo Alto before, it'll be three days surrounded by people who're practically talking a foreign language."

"Yeah," conceded Felix, "but you get to go to California."

Jacob spoke up from the back seat. "We're going to northern California Felix. The average temperature in Palo Alto in March is about the same as here." He continued with a note of indignation in voice, "and Rachel's exaggerating, everyone we'll be meeting is perfectly normal." Felix and Rachel exchanged glances, rolling their eyes.

Felix deposited the pair at National. They quickly made their way through the airport, Rachel flashing her badge to get them around security. Settled at their gate, Jacob took Rachel's hand.

"This is nice," he said softly.

"What?" Rachel jerked her attention back to him; she had been scanning the crowd around them, automatically checking for anything suspicious.

He smiled, bringing her hand to his lips. "Us, together, alone."

Rachel pulled her hand away, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Jacob regarded her in amusement. "Rachel, no one's paying any attention to us, there's no one here either one of us knows. And I don't think the Bureau is spying on us."

She flushed. "I'm sorry but, well, there may be an air marshal on this flight, sitting here at the gate; if there is I'm going to have to identify myself to him."

"Why?"

"Jacob, this trip is unofficial only in the sense that we're not working a case. I'm still your bodyguard. I'm armed; I have to identify myself to the flight attendants and the air marshal."

Jacob slumped down in his seat. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

She looked at him quizzically, "what do you mean?"

"I was thinking this is the first time since Felix joined the team that we've gone out on the road alone." He looked at her beseechingly, "Like you said, there's no case, we won't be checking in with any field office or local cops. So it would be just you and me, together."

Rachel gave a small smile. "You mean you, me, and a bunch of professors and students."

He shook his head. "My commitment isn't that heavy. Two seminars and a lecture. We'll have tonight and most of the weekend free. Our return flight isn't until Sunday afternoon."

"Tonight? My schedule says you have a dinner tonight."

"It's at the home of the head of the Department of Applied Physics. A bunch of old friends, colleagues I haven't seen in a while. I made it clear when she suggested it that you'd be accompanying me."

"Well, yeah," Rachel began.

Jacob narrowed his eyes, "No, you're coming as a guest. You're not going to be staying in the car or patrolling the property."

"You told her about us?" Rachel's eyes widened in shock. "How could you do….

Jacob interrupted her. "No, but I don't see that it matters. Stanford is separated by more than just miles from DC and the Bureau."

"Are you crazy?" Before she could fully take Jacob to task, the gate agent arrived. Rachel grabbed him by the arm and, after tersely identifying herself, hustled him on the plane. They were soon in their normal seats, the last row in coach; both silently wondering what the hell the other was thinking.

Rachel waited until the flight was well underway before she spoke. "Jacob," she said, "I thought you understood, that you were ok, with our keeping our relationship secret. I mean, it's one thing to tell Alex, but a complete stranger?"

"She's hardly a stranger." Jacob looked at her sideways. "I haven't told, wasn't going to tell, anyone at Stanford about us. I know what we, you're, risking and I'd never do anything to hurt you. When Patricia suggested this dinner, I reminded her that I don't travel alone. She said that I should bring you along." He added defensively, "I didn't say anything about us, I only thanked her for being thoughtful enough to include you."

Rachel sighed. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's only…"

Jacob nodded. "I know, this is hard on both of us."

Rachel reached into her satchel for a folder. "We should go over your schedule. I have to admit, I thought this visit would follow your normal pattern."

Jacob's lips quirked upwards. "Well, I definitely think I'll be skipping the visit with Tanner."

"If you want to visit your … dog," Rachel sniffed, "don't let me stand in your way."

After reviewing the schedule, Rachel cocked an eyebrow at him. "I should have paid better attention to this when you gave it to me last week. You're right; it is pretty light for a three day visit."

"I was looking at this as an opportunity for us." Rachel frowned quizzically. "I realized when Patricia asked me to lecture there wouldn't be any need for Felix to come along." Jacob looked at her wishfully. "We don't see to ever have any real time to ourselves. To be together."

Rachel started to reply, but he over-ruled her. "I mean outside of the bedroom." Rachel blushed. "Since January we've been on the road more often than not. It seems like forever since we had more than a day to ourselves."

"Not since we got snowed in together," Rachel said softly.

Jacob smiled reminiscently. "Yeah, it's impossible for us to be together in public in DC; there's always the chance we might run into someone who knows us. Even when we're in Deale we have to be careful. That's why this seemed so perfect. We'll be miles away from anyone who knows or cares about our connection to the Bureau."

A smile played on Rachel's lips. "I wouldn't have thought you could be so devious. What did you have in mind?"

"We leave Stanford after the last seminar. I've booked a room for us at a small hotel in the city and I've made reservations for dinner. We'll spend Saturday sightseeing. I even got us tickets to go to Alcatraz; I thought you'd like that."

Rachel was impressed. "You really planned this. And when were you going to tell me?"

Jacob grinned. "I always meant to tell you after the plane took off. I figured it would be too late for you to object."

She looked doubtful, "I don't know. Can we just fall off the grid for like this? Won't people be suspicious?"

Jacob looked at her impatiently. "Honestly Rachel, the last time we were in Palo Alto, how often did you check in?"

Rachel smiled reluctantly. "You're right, I didn't check in at all. If something comes up, they'll call me. But what about the people at Stanford? Won't they think it's odd if you rush off?"

"No," he replied. "I told Patricia I'd have to leave after the last seminar."

Rachel was silent for a moment and then she laughed. "Ok, you win, but," she added "I'm going to have to keep a better eye on you. I can't believe how devious you're getting."

Jacob looked smug. "Getting? You need to talk to some of my former handlers."

He dug a guidebook to San Francisco out of his carryon and they spent the remainder of the flight planning their weekend. It wasn't long before they were landing at SFO and collecting their rental car.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Where too?" Rachel wanted to know as they drove onto the Stanford campus. "Do you need to check in with the department head or what?"

Jacob knew he had one more hurdle to clear on this trip. "Um, we're staying at the Stanford Guest House, why don't we register and grab some lunch before we go to see Patricia?"

Rachel nodded absently, more intent in getting to their destination without hitting a jay-walking student than in what Jacob was saying. They approached the desk and he spoke up quickly. "Hello, we have a reservation, name of Hood." Only Rachel's training kept the surprise from showing on her face.

"Oh, yes, here it is Dr. Hood," said the desk clerk. "Your room charges are being paid by the Department of Applied Physics, is that correct?"

"Um, yes," he answered. The clerk beamed at them. "Here's your key; I hope you and Mrs. Hood enjoy your stay."

Jacob grabbed Rachel by the arm and dragged her toward the restaurant. She maintained her silence until they were seated. "Are you crazy?" she spat out, looking around to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "You booked one room? For Dr. and Mrs. Hood? What the hell were you thinking? How am I going to explain this?"

"The Mrs. was an assumption on the part of the clerk, the room is in my name only. And explain what to whom Rachel?"

Rachel gaped at him. "Uh, explain to the Bureau why they don't have a room charge for me for tonight? You do realize I have to file expense reports for all our travel?"

"Yes," Jacob said. "And I've told you, I'm not as oblivious as you seem to think. I'm here as a guest of Department. When they found out having me meant having you too, they agreed to pay for your room." He raised an eyebrow, "Or that's what you can tell the Bureau if they ask." He shrugged. "And for the rest of the weekend, the Bureau is used to me considering these trips personal time; we can claim we stayed with friends of mine."

Rachel stared at him, fascinated, "Oh my God, you really have thought this out."

Jacob's lips kicked up. "I have been told that I'm not completely unintelligent."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Don't forget," Rachel reminded him as they entered the McCullough Building. "I need to do a preliminary walk through of the classrooms you'll be in tomorrow. I want to make sure that I can provide adequate security."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Rachel, we're at Stanford. No one here is going to try to kill me. I'm not teaching, so there are no disgruntled students and I haven't had a stake in faculty politics in quite some time."

Rachel snorted. "Yeah, but sometimes to know you is to want to kill you."

Jacob laughed quietly, "I promise, no more surprises."

"Jacob," exclaimed a stocky, older woman, as they entered the administrative offices of the department. "You finally made it, I was starting to get worried."

He smiled at the woman, "We decided to have lunch first. Patricia, this is Special Agent Rachel Young, my FBI handler. Rachel, this is Dr. Carson, the department chair."

"You're Jacob's FBI bodyguard?" Dr. Carson said with a ghost of a smile.

Rachel smiled coolly and stuck out her chin. "Yes, I am."

The older woman smiled outright. "I'm so pleased to meet you. Your presence tonight will make my dinner party more interesting than they usually are."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. Dr. Caruthers explained. "Half my guests are appalled an FBI agent is coming to dinner. They see you as a representative of a corrupt political organization." Jacob choked on a laugh. She continued, "The other half are thrilled to be meeting a real, live bodyguard. I'm afraid they're expecting something out of the movies."

"To which half do you belong to Dr. Carson?" asked Rachel.

Dr. Carson snorted. "Neither, I'm the one who's happy to have at least one dinner guest who won't want to hash over faculty politics or abuse the administration all night. And please, call me Patricia."

"Only if you call me Rachel," she extended her hand. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to review my security measures for Dr. Hood with you."

Patricia raised her eyebrows in surprise when Rachel pulled a roster for each class from her satchel.

"I was hoping," Rachel said, "that you could confirm for me that these are the only people who will be attending the lectures?"

"Those rosters reflect who is enrolled. I can't guarantee that they'll be the only ones in attendance. Jacob is a popular speaker." Patricia explained.

Rachel shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that's not acceptable. I need to know how many people will be in the room in order to provide Dr. Hood with adequate security."

Patricia looked thoughtful. "The rooms are fairly small; they hold around thirty-five people. Would it help if I requested a member of campus security to attend each of the classes?"

Rachel smiled gratefully. "Yes, that should be sufficient. Would it be possible for me to meet with your head of security now?"

Patricia reached for her phone. "I don't see why not." She spoke briefly and hung up with a satisfied expression on her face. "The head of security is on his way over. He'll go over the rooms with you now and help you out himself tomorrow. You don't know what you're doing for the reputation of Applied Physics," she added with a grin. "We haven't had this much excitement over here in I don't know how long." As Jacob and Rachel left her office, she called out. "Jacob, don't forget, dinner at 6:00."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Rachel and the head of security quickly inspected the classrooms to be used and reviewed the procedures she deemed necessary for the next day. Jacob smiled in amusement as the two security professionals bemoaned the lack of metal detectors and bullet-proof podiums. Soon they were free to play tourist.

"Well, what would you like to see? I know you've been here with me before, but well…" Jacob trailed off.

Rachel smirked. "But before, you generally ditched me since you were here on personal business." She looked thoughtful. "You know what I'd really like to see? Your Stanford. The places you used to work, where you hung out, that sort of thing."

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering over the campus. Jacob showed Rachel his old lab, the classrooms where he taught, even the carrel in the science library where he would hole up when working on a paper.

It was late afternoon when they returned to the Guest House.

"Think I have time for a quick shower?" Rachel asked.

"Uh, sure, why?"

She yawned. "Jet lag. I need something to keep me awake through dinner; a shower should do the trick."

Rachel screwed her ponytail into a bun and stepped into the shower. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to let the cool water run over her face and body. Her eyes flew open when a husky voice whispered in her ear, "I think you missed a spot." Before she could turn around, one of Jacob's arms circled her waist, pulling her against him. His other hand pulled the soapy washcloth from her hands.

"Yep," his voice, huskier than normal, murmured in her ear, "you definitely missed spots." Jacob slowly ran the washcloth over her shoulders, breasts and down her abdomen. By the time he reached her stomach, they were both panting. Turning in his arms, Rachel pressed herself against him. Standing on her toes, she ran her hands into his hair, pulling Jacob into a kiss.

Groaning, Jacob turned and pushed Rachel against the wall of the shower. Pinning her body to the wall with his own, he reached down and cupped her ass, pulling her up against his erection. He broke off their kiss long enough to whisper in her ear, "hold on to me, tight." Rachel slid her hands from his hair and wound her arms firmly around his neck. She gasped, partly from pleasure, partly from fear at their precarious position, as Jacob wrapped her legs around his waist. Holding her hips tightly, he thrust into her. This time, the sounds Rachel made were pure pleasure.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"You know," Rachel whispered in Jacob's ear as he held her still pinned against the shower wall, "I didn't want to get my hair wet."

Jacob's shoulder's shook. "Don't make me laugh, I might drop you."

Rachel cautiously lowered her legs. Leaning against him, she sighed with satisfaction. "I love you."

Jacob lightly kissed her. "I love you too." He shook water from his hair, "but you better hurry up or we're going to be late for dinner." Rachel gasped in indignation as Jacob turned off the water and stepped from the shower.

Rachel dressed in record time. Snapping her holster and Glock onto the waistband of her pants, she caught sight of Jacob's face. "Don't."

Jacob sighed, "Do you really need…"

She gave him a level look. "We've been through this before, when I'm on duty, I carry my weapon. You and Patricia may consider me a guest, but that doesn't change the fact I'm here as your bodyguard."

"Ok, but what about tomorrow night? And Saturday?"

Rachel smiled and gave Jacob a quick kiss. "After we leave here, we officially fall off the grid. I promise, as soon as we get to our hotel tomorrow night, I'll lock my weapon away."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As they drove to Patricia's house, Rachel quizzed Jacob as to whom he thought would be present. He considered the matter. "Most likely some of the senior faculty, those are the ones I worked with while I was here. But I'm sure she'll have invited Sebastian Thorpe."

"Why him?" Rachel asked.

"His class is the one I'm lecturing on the use of nanotechnology in genetic analysis." Jacob shrugged. "As for the rest, who knows?"

"What about the other professors whose seminars you're talking too?"

"They're Patricia's students. Originally I was only going to take those two classes, but for some reason when Thorpe heard I was coming, he asked Patricia to speak to me about addressing his students."

Rachel was puzzled. "Why did he do that? Was he a friend of yours back in the day?"

"No, Thorpe only joined the department the year I left. But he works in what was my field."

"That's odd," Rachel mused.

Jacob looked annoyed, "Rachel, I'm still considered one of the leading experts in the area, it's not odd Thorpe wants me to talk to his students."

"I'm sorry Jacob," Rachel said apologetically. "I know you're not here as the Special Science Advisor, but I'm hard-wired to look for threats to you."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Patricia answered the door after their first knock. "Jacob, Rachel, I'm so glad you're here. Rachel, you must come and meet Dr. Barker, his specialties are molecular biology and conspiracy theories. He's thrilled to be meeting an actual member of the evil cabal."

Rachel's lips twitched. "I'd love to, but first I have to get Hood established in a secure position."

Jacob laughed outright. "I'm coming with you, it will be interesting to watch your reaction to Martin and his to you."

Rachel found the next hour more enjoyable than she had anticipated. While there were a few raised eyebrows, the fact Jacob's bodyguard was an attractive blonde went without comment. Rachel was able to circulate among the guests, carrying on various conversations while still keeping Jacob within an arm's length.

She was patiently explaining to Dr. Quake that working with Dr. Hood did not mean that she had a background in biophysics, when she became alert to the presence of a younger man. She had noticed him watching Jacob earlier; now he was approaching Jacob with an intent expression on his face. With the ease of long practice, she smoothly blocked his path. "Yes?"

The man scowled at her. "Who the hell are you?"

"If you had bothered to show up on time," Patricia's voice carried a note of disapproval, "you would have been introduced to Special Agent Young. She's Jacob's bodyguard." She turned to Rachel, "this is Sebastian Thorpe, one of our rising stars; I hope you can excuse his discourtesy."

"No," Rachel extended her hand to the man, "the apology's mine. I'm afraid that you were approaching Dr. Hood rather quickly and my training kicked in."

Ignoring her hand, Thorpe's lips curved up maliciously. "You're the FBI bodyguard? You look more like Jacob's piece of ah…fluff."

There was a moment of shocked silence. Jacob, flushing angrily, began to speak, but Rachel silenced him with a look. Smiling slightly, she said, "You're a brave man, Dr. Thorpe."

Thorpe's expression became uneasy. "Uh, why?"

Rachel casually brushed back her jacket, exposing her weapon. Eyes widened at the sight of the Glock attached to her hip. "Most men would think twice before insulting a woman who's armed." Rachel raised an eyebrow, "But don't worry, I'm not going to shoot."

"Why ever not?" Patricia glared at the younger man.

Rachel turned to the older woman with a bland expression. "He's not worth the paperwork." The rest of the guests snickered; Thorpe turned red.

"On that note, let's go into dinner," announced Patricia.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Dinner passed quickly; much to Patricia's chagrin the conversation soon turned into a debate of departmental politics. Shortly afterward, Hood excused himself and Rachel. "Jet lag, you know." He hesitated. "So Patricia, Sebastian, I'll see you both tomorrow."

Jacob was uncharacteristically silent on the drive back to the Guest House. "You should've let me handle that jerk," he finally blurted out.

"What?" replied Rachel vaguely.

"Sebastian, I should have been the one…."

Rachel interrupted. "What, you should have been the one to defend my honor?"

Jacob scowled at her. "It's not funny Rachel. I can't believe he made a remark like that about you."

"Jacob, I've been ignoring remarks like that from jerks like him pretty much since I hit puberty. Forget it."

"I can't just forget it. It's bad enough when we're working and the local cops hit on you, but to have..."

Rachel looked at him in astonishment. "That bothers you?"

Jacob felt his temper rising. "Of course it bothers me. Do you think it's pleasant for me to stand there while some man tries to figure out how to get you into bed? To have them ask me if you're unattached? To hear them make remarks about your looks, about, about your body?"

Rachel abruptly pulled the car to the side of the road. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. You're being irrational."

"How in the hell can you accuse me of being irrational? Because I hate how these men think you're some kind of, that you should be…available to them?"

Rachel sighed. "Jacob, do you know one of the things about you that helped me fall in love with you? It's the way you never made assumptions about me based on how I look."

Jacob looked puzzled, "what do you mean?"

Rachel smiled bitterly. "All my life I've had people, men especially, dismiss me, ignore my opinions. Look at me, I'm not only a woman, I'm blonde, pretty and, well, I'm not short, but I look small since I'm thin, fine-boned."

She looked at him levelly. "I've always had to force people to take me seriously, to treat me with respect, but not you. When I was first assigned to your detail, you resented not me, but the fact that you had to have a protection detail. Still, you respected me, you assumed that I was competent, that I had something to contribute to your work. You've always treated me as an equal." She reached out and touched his face. "You don't know what it meant to me when you said we weren't just lovers, that we're partners."

Rachel took a deep breath. "And that means you don't "handle' things for me."

"I know that you're capable of handling the jerks," Jacob said, "probably better than me. I just wish you'd let me help protect you from that kind of thing."

"I'm not a child Jacob, I don't need you to protect me," said Rachel sharply.

"I'm not saying you are. I just want you to acknowledge that there could be situations, like tonight, when it would be better for me to do, say something rather than you."

Rachel hesitated. "Maybe. But you have to agree that I get to decide if I need your help." Jacob reached over and gave her a quick hug.

"Agreed. But," he added softly, "it'll always bother me when those men..."

Rachel re-started the car and pulled into traffic. "It shouldn't bother you." She added airily, "it doesn't bother me when women hit on you."

"What?" Jacob sputtered, "no one's ever …"

Rachel laughed, "No? Just that woman at the concert, that cop in LA, the college kid who offered to lend you her dorm room, and oh, yeah, my personal favorite, the 80 year old who was literally on her deathbed."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When they reached the hotel, they quickly changed into flannel pants and t-shirts. Rachel stretched out on the bed, flipping through the television channels while Jacob reviewed his lecture notes. "You know what you should do," she offered.

Jacob looked up from the desk where he was working. "What?"

"You should tell that idiot Thorpe he can teach his own class," Rachel smirked. "That'll teach him to be rude to a lady."

"I did consider it," Jacob grimaced. "But half the department heard him insult you tonight. If I refused to take the class, it would change the direction of the gossip."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Right now the gossip is that he was rude and you made him look like a fool. If I don't do the lecture as agreed, people would wonder why and talk about that instead."

Rachel shook her head. "I didn't realize that academics could be so petty."

Jacob snorted. "You never heard the saying that academic politics are so bitter because so little is at stake?"

Rachel yawned. "I guess. I'm ready to turn in, are you about done there?"

"For now." Jacob turned out the desk lamp and climbed into the bed beside her.

Rachel snuggled into his side, laying her head on his chest, as Jacob wrapped his arms around her. "You know," she said sleepily, "he only said that because he's jealous."

"He is?"

"Umhm," Rachel murmured. "He's in your field, right? But those people still respect you, listen to what you say, consider you the expert. They treat him like a kid."

Jacob dropped a kiss on the top of head. "I thought it was because I have such a nice piece of fluff."

Rachel chuckled, "that too."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Rachel frowned at Jacob as she came out of the bathroom. "Why are you dressed like that?"

He looked down at his familiar jeans and shirt. "Ah, cause I always dress like this?"

"No, you brought a suit; you had a suit bag on the plane. I assumed you wanted to wear it for class."

Jacob laughed. "Rachel, no one wears a suit when they're teaching, except in the movies." He paused thoughtfully, "Or those pompous jerks in the law school. They wear suits a lot."

Rachel looked around, puzzled, "Well, why did you bring it? And where is it?"

He changed the subject. "If we hurry, we'll have time for you to do a final sweep of my classrooms after breakfast. Do you need to call the head of security or is he meeting you at McCullough?" As he hoped, Rachel was soon distracted with the logistics of the day.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

By lunchtime, Rachel had to admit that she was impressed with Jacob's performance in the classroom. While she had always appreciated the way he explained things to her and Felix, seeing him in action, so to speak, was another thing altogether. His style was a mixture of lecture and questions, and he smoothly controlled flow of the class, drawing out the quieter students, not letting any one student dominate the discussion.

"Well, Rachel," Patricia asked her over lunch at the faculty club, "how do you think things are going?"

Rachel smiled politely. "I won't pretend I understood what Dr. Hood and your students were talking about, but it seemed to go well."

Patricia beamed. "Yes, it did, Jacob's a talented teacher. So many top-flight researchers aren't you know. It was a real loss for Stanford when he decided to offer his expertise to the FBI."

"You don't need to flatter me Patricia," said Jacob. "You know I'm always willing to come back for the odd seminar or two."

"Speaking of odd," said Rachel, "don't we have to leave soon for Dr. Thorpe's class?"

Patricia snorted with laughter. "Yes and my second seminar meets directly after his class." She looked at Jacob sadly. "Are you sure you have to leave so quickly? You know its second Friday; so many people were hoping to have a word with you."

Rachel's brow creased. "What's second Friday?"

"It's a tradition in the department. We have a small reception after the last classes on the second Friday of each month. To promote collegiality." Patricia explained.

Jacob looked guilty. "I'm sorry, but …"

Rachel cut in smoothly, "But we can only stay for a short time, maybe an hour?"

Patricia smiled happily. "Excellent! Everyone will be pleased."

"Why did you do that?" Jacob asked as they made their way across campus.

Rachel tilted her head and looked up at him. "Cause she's nice. I like her and it was obvious she wanted you to be there." Rachel bumped shoulders with Jacob. "Besides, up until Thorpe made his snarky comment, I was enjoying last night."

Jacob looked at her, his mouth open in astonishment.

"Really," she insisted. "It was fun. We don't get to go out as a couple, and that's what last night felt like." She scowled, "until that jerk Thorpe ruined it."

Jacob smiled in understanding. "Last night and this reception, they're for you what this weekend is for me?"

"Yeah," Rachel agreed. "A taste of what normal life would be like."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Rachel, a tad spitefully, insisted Jacob delay his entrance to Thorpe's classroom by 10 minutes. "Looks worried, doesn't he?" she muttered as they finally entered the room. Both Thorpe's class and Patricia's seminar went as smoothly as the morning session. Soon they were back at the Faculty Club.

Jacob looked at Rachel in amusement. "You're sure you want to do this? These things can be pretty boring."

She shook her head with a smile. "No, it'll be fine. I've enjoyed today, seeing what your life used to be like." They entered the room and Rachel's attention was immediately claimed by Dr. Barker.

"Special Agent Young, I'm so glad you could be here today," he said, tucking her arm into his. "You must come and meet Dr. Fischer. I was telling him of our discussion on the lone gunman theory and he was fascinated by your perspective as a marksman." Jacob suppressed his laughter and followed them into the room.

Once again Rachel enjoyed, not the reception, though she had to admit that she found Dr. Barker a hoot, but watching and listening to the others as they interacted with Jacob. They had been there an hour when she noticed Jacob worriedly checking his watch. "I'm sorry," she interrupted the conversation. "But I'm afraid that we have to leave now." Jacob gave a small sigh of relief.

"What's your hurry," Rachel inquired as they drove off the campus. "I thought our time was our own once you were done with the last seminar?"

"Not quite our own," Jacob corrected. "I've made dinner reservations for tonight, remember? It takes almost an hour to get into the city and with Friday evening traffic, well; I don't want us to be late."

"I forgot," she admitted. "Where are we going?"

"Someplace nice," was her only answer.

Rachel threw Jacob an amused glance. "Fine, be mysterious, but I need the hotel's address for the GPS."

Jacob smiled briefly, "just put in Hotel Union Square."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Jacob predicted, the traffic into the city was heavy; he fidgeted in his seat, constantly checking his watch. When they finally arrived at the hotel, he checked them in quickly; hustled her through the lobby and up to their room.

Dropping her bag on the bed, Rachel faced Jacob in exasperation. "What's your problem?" Her lips curved up and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Or are you just in a hurry to be alone with me?"

Jacob detached her arms. "Uh, not exactly. It's just," he shrugged. "I'm not sure how long it will take you to get ready for dinner."

"Get ready?" Rachel looked at him in disbelief. "You may recall that I didn't know this trip was anything out of the ordinary." She gestured to herself. "This is as good as it gets, the only other things I packed were jeans and sweaters." She narrowed her eyes, "just how nice is this place?"

Jacob grinned. "Very nice, that's why I took the liberty of packing a few things for you." Unzipping the suit bag, he pulled out a black cocktail dress. Thrusting it into Rachel's hands, he then rummaged in his duffle; producing two pairs of shoes, black pumps and strappy sandals, a sequined evening bag, and a black pashmina embroidered with silver thread.

Rachel's jaw dropped. "You raided my closet?"

"Yep," Jacob answered proudly. He frowned. "I wasn't sure about the shoes. I mean, the sandals seem the kind of thing you'd wear with that dress; but it's kind of chilly."

Understanding dawned on her face, "that's why you insisted on spending the night at my place yesterday?"

Jacob nodded, "It was part of the surprising you plan."

Rachel burst out laughing. "Devious, you are definitely becoming devious." She nudged him toward the bathroom. "You'd better go first, you're right, I'm going to need a little extra time."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jacob scowled at his watch. "Did you really have to take a shower?"

Rachel smiled into the mirror. Wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, she was putting the finishing touches on her make-up. "Yes, I wanted my hair to have some curl tonight. Besides," she added, "I'm about ready to go."

Jacob looked at her in astonishment. "You're not even dressed!"

She threw him a look of affectionate contempt. "Jacob, putting on my dress is nothing. My hair and make-up are done, that's what matters." As she spoke, she slipped on the dress and presented her back to him. "Zip me," she commanded; he complied. "See, all ready to go." Rachel took a critical look at herself in the mirror. "I wish you had thought to pack some of my jewelry, this dress needs a necklace."

Jacob hesitated. "Well, I was going to give this to you later, but…" He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a flat box. Rachel gasped as he opened it; inside was a diamond solitaire on a silver chain.

"Oh, Jacob, it's perfect!" She handed him the pendant and pulled her hair out of the way. "Do the clasp for me."

He fastened the clasp and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. "Do you like it?"

Rachel turned and hugged him. "It's beautiful, thank you."

Arranging the pashmina over Rachel's shoulders, he handed her her bag. "Now can we please go?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Rachel hid her surprise as they entered the restaurant. 'Nice' was putting it mildly. The walls and ceiling were draped with crimson and gold fabric and the lighting was discreetly low.

She slipped her arm through Jacob's as the maître d led them to their table. "I'm impressed, this place an old favorite of yours?"

Jacob hesitated; he had deliberately chosen Fleur de Lys because he had never been there before. "No, this is the first time…"

Rachel looked at him, startled, understanding dawned on her face. "It's lovely."

When she expressed doubt over his ordering a bottle of wine, Jacob firmly overruled her. "Neither of us is driving tonight, and you're officially off duty." Smiling, she agreed.

Dinner was a leisurely affair; they spent most of the evening debating their plans for the next day. Rachel was enthusiastic about visiting Alcatraz. Both agreed they could skip Fisherman's Wharf; they preferred to explore the neighborhoods for which San Francisco was famed.

When the waiter asked about dessert, Jacob was amazed when Rachel declined. "Sweetheart," he said with mock concern. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Very funny."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Rachel raised an eyebrow as she heard the address Jacob gave the cab driver. "Why the Marriott?"

He put an arm around her and pulled her close. "A nightcap."

They were soon established at a window table in the lounge on the 39th floor. A smooth jazz trio was playing softly in the background. Rachel gazed at the lights of the city which were slowly being blanketed in fog. "Beautiful," she said.

"Yes," agreed Jacob, "you are."

"No, really, this is wonderful." She toasted him with her balloon glass. "I have to admit, I have to re-evaluate my attitude toward your former handlers. I never realized you could be so sneaky. Our hotel, dinner, this place." She touched the diamond. "This pendant, how in the world did you do all this without my suspecting?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "We're hardly together 24/7. Plus," he shrugged, "I did most of this online." He leaned across the small table and ran a finger down the chain until it rested on the diamond lying on her chest. "Even this." One side of his mouth kicked up. "It was my second choice, I wasn't sure you'd accept a ring." Rachel drew in her breath sharply, partly from his touch, partly from the implication of his words.

"Would you, Rachel, will you marry me?" Jacob looked at her intently. "Not in some hazy, maybe, future, but now, as soon as we can?"

Rachel returned his stare, "is it that important to you?"

Jacob sat back, "Yes."

Rachel tilted her head and considered. "Why? What would it change?" She reached out and took his hand. "Would you love me more, if we were married? Would we be together longer?" She shook her head. "I love you Jacob, with all my heart, and I know you love me with yours."

She smiled slightly. "Do you remember what you said; the first time we made love? That you weren't looking for a fling. Well neither was I. I'm in this for the long haul."

Jacob pulled her hands to his lips. "I know that sweetheart, it's just…"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know what to say Jacob. One the one hand, it would make it harder."

"Harder?"

Rachel nodded. "Umhm, harder to keep our relationship secret. Marriage means a paper trail."

Jacob smiled, "do you remember what you said the first time we made love? That the Bureau doesn't monitor marriage license applications."

"Touché!"

Jacob looked at her curiously, "And on the other hand?"

"We'd be married; I'd be your wife." Her expression became abstracted.

As Jacob opened his mouth to argue, the trio struck up a slow song. Several couples moved to the small dance floor. Rachel stood, tugging him up. "Dance with me."

Jacob protested, "I can't dance."

"Anyone can dance to music like this." As they moved to the music, Rachel nestled closer, laying her head on his shoulder. She hummed along to the music, defeating Jacob's attempts to continue their conversation. They danced through several numbers; as the music ended Rachel kissed Jacob on the cheek, "let's go back to the hotel now."

On the trip down the elevator and during the walk back to the hotel, Rachel kept her head on Jacob's shoulder, pulling Jacob's arm tight around her. When he tried to talk to her, she would answer briefly. Once in their room, Rachel carefully took off her pendant; smoothing out the chain.

She turned to Jacob putting her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you for tonight, for this weekend, for everything." She kissed him lightly, breaking away as Jacob attempted to pull her closer. She shook her head. "No, I have to wash off this make-up; I'll be right back." She disappeared into the bathroom.

Jacob shrugged, unable to understand Rachel's mood. He undressed and climbed into bed to wait for her. Rachel came out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. She firmly moved his hands when he reached for her.

"Zipper," she said softly.

Jacob lowered her zipper, but before he could push the dress from her shoulders, place a kiss on the nape of her neck, she stood up. Rachel suppressed a smile at Jacob's growl of impatience and at the way his breathing quickened as she slipped out the dress. Very aware of his eyes on her, Rachel stripped off her underwear and slid into bed next to him. Rachel leaned over him, one hand in his hair, the other stroking his chest.

Looking in his eyes, she whispered, "I love you Jacob." She kissed him lightly, her tongue teasing his. Jacob's arms went around her. They began to make love gently; but soon the kisses became harder, the caresses more demanding. They pulled each other closer, encouraging each other with soft cries, whispers, and moans of pleasure. Rachel dug her nails into Jacob's back; he ran his teeth over the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. Finally, with a groan of satisfaction, Jacob collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her hair as her murmured over and over that he loved her.

Jacob began to shift off of Rachel. He smiled at her mew of displeasure. He pushed himself onto his elbows, to take some of his weight off of her. "I don't want to hurt you sweetheart."

Rachel tightened her grip on Jacob, trying to pull him closer. "I like how you feel; I like it when you're on top of me, surrounding me."

"I like how you feel too, but," he shifted until he was lying beside her, cuddling her against him, "I want us both to be comfortable, ok?"

Rachel nuzzled Jacob's neck, yawning. "Ok."

Jacob was stroking Rachel's hair, listening to her deep breathing; he was surprised when she suddenly spoke.

"Maryland."

He shifted so he could see her face, her eyes were closed. "Ah, what about Maryland?"

Rachel snuggled closer. "Be easy," she assured him.

Jacob was amused; he had never known Rachel to talk in her sleep. "It will?"

"Ummm." Rachel slipped deeper into sleep.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next day dawned clear and cold. "Jacob," Rachel nudged him awake. "What time do we catch the ferry?"

Jacob yawned. "Nine."

"We'd better get moving."

Jacob groaned and tried to pull Rachel to him. "What, no good morning kiss?"

Rachel laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Nuh uh, you're the one who wanted to spend time together outside of a bedroom, remember?" She slipped out of bed. "I'll start the coffee, I expect you awake and moving when I get out of the bathroom."

Jacob was not only awake, but he had fixed a cup of coffee for Rachel as well as himself. Within a half hour they were both dressed and ready for their day. First was breakfast at Sears followed by a cable car ride to Pier 33 to catch the ferry to Alcatraz. Jacob and Rachel both enjoyed the tour; on the ferry ride back Rachel huddled against Jacob's side for warmth.

"It must have been hell to be in prison there," Rachel mused.

"Why?"

"Think of it," she said, "so close to the city, you can see the lights, the people on the shore, knowing there's no way to escape."

The rest of the day was devoted to slowly making their way back to Union Square. They admired the architecture and explored the shops of North Beach. Lunch was at a small coffee shop with the confusing name of Mario's Bohemian Cigar Store. Jacob raised his eyebrows when Rachel expressed a desire to stop in at City Lights Booksellers.

"When I was a teenager I used to drive my dad nuts ordering books on politics from there," she explained.

"But did you read them?"

Rachel grinned mischievously. "Mostly."

Rachel wanted to climb Telegraph Hill to see the Coit Tower close up; Jacob convinced her that they could see it perfectly well from a bench in Washington Square. Rachel agreed when he sweetened the deal by purchasing cannoli from a nearby bakery for dessert. North Beach flowed into Chinatown, providing a whole new world for them to investigate. Rachel was fascinated by the live poultry and fish on display.

"You know Rachel," Jacob teased, "not everyone starts dinner by checking out their freezer."

"Oh, like you've ever killed a chicken" she retorted. Then her eyes opened wide. "Jacob," she whispered, "is that an armadillo in that crate?"

They burst out laughing and continued down the street arm in arm, stopping in stores whenever they saw something that caught their attention.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was early evening when they finally reached Union Square. They stopped in a bar around the corner from their hotel, both reluctant to admit that the day was drawing to a close.

Rachel looked at Jacob sadly, "I hate that we have to go back to real life tomorrow. It's been nice, just being together."

Jacob leaned across the table. "I've been thinking; we've been too afraid of people finding out about us. We need to re-focus."

Rachel looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"We need to shift our perspective. We should concentrate on what's possible, what we can do, if we use some discretion rather than what we can't do."

"What did you have in mind?"

Jacob took Rachel's hand. "I want you to move in with me."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "That's your idea of discreet? I know our work doesn't leave me much time for a social life, but I do have a few friends I keep up with. I think they'd notice if I was living with anyone, let alone you."

"No, listen," Jacob insisted. "There's an apartment vacant in my building. I, well, I've asked the building super to hold it for you. I think you should rent it. If anyone questions it, you can say it's easier to keep track of me this way."

Rachel considered his suggestion. "It's not a bad idea; after the number of times the city shut down this winter, no one would think twice about it."

Jacob nodded eagerly. "Exactly, we move enough of your stuff into it so that it looks lived in, so you can use it occasionally…"

She nodded, "yeah, 'proof of life', so to speak."

"What with you being my handler and us living in the same building," Jacob continued, "it would be natural for us to shop or run errands together. As long as we're not together constantly, no one should comment."

"Devious, you most certainly are devious. I had no idea."

Jacob returned her smile, "I prefer to think of myself as determined when focusing on a desired objective."

"This will make it easier, not having to make excuses as to why you're at my place or I'm at yours at odd times."

"Easier for me to hide how I feel about you," Jacob admitted, honestly. "Knowing that when we get home, we'll be together. That we have something permanent to share."

Rachel looked at him thoughtfully. "That's why you asked me to marry you last night isn't it?"

"I'm sorry I brought it up; it was just an impulse, I hadn't thought it through. You were right, it wouldn't change anything." Jacob smiled ruefully. "But you looked so damn beautiful last night, I just …"

Rachel interrupted him. "Don't you dare apologize for asking me to marry you. I was wrong last night, being married would change things."

Jacob looked bewildered. "But you said…"

"No, it won't change how we feel about each other, but, well," She smiled, "I'd be your wife, you'd be my husband. That's a major change."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

Rachel looked at him with exasperation. "I'm saying 'yes.' You asked me to marry you remember?"

"But last night, you said… then you acted so … strange."

Rachel shook her head, smiling. "I told you, I changed my mind, woman's prerogative. As for acting strange..." She shrugged, "I was thinking, wondering if we could do this under the radar. Then I remembered Maryland."

Jacob blinked at the non sequitur. "Uh, Maryland?"

"A few years ago, a friend of mine had to get married, uh, quickly. She said that in the metro area, Maryland is best since they don't have a waiting period and they ask the fewest questions." Rachel shrugged again. "Basically you show up at the courthouse, get issued a license, and you can be married immediately."

Jacob smiled slowly. "We could do it in less than a day with no one the wiser."

Rachel returned his smile, "exactly."

"But the paper trail?"

"There's no central registry of marriages in this country, so someone would not only have to go looking, but go looking in Maryland."

Jacob gripped her hands. "Are you sure about this sweetheart?

"What? Getting cold feet already?" she teased. Her expression sobered. "And, as much as I hate to admit it, being your wife may be a way for you to protect me."

Jacob looked at her quizzically. "What? How?"

"I really hate this," Rachel said quietly, looking down. "I don't want you to think I agreed to marry you because…"

"What is it Rachel?" Jacob asked gently.

She considered her words carefully. "Jacob, I've always known that we couldn't hide indefinitely." She pressed her fingers against his lips to silence his protest. "No, I mean it. Sooner or later, one of us would slip, say something, do something." She shrugged. "Or we'd get tired of hiding. I figured we'd have a year, probably less, before we had to face the music." She raised an eyebrow, "you do realize it won't be pleasant for either one of us when it happens?"

Jacob nodded, "yeah, you said they'd try to fire you."

Rachel shook her head firmly, "will fire me. I'm sleeping with my assignment Jacob, that's not allowed. There'll be a scandal; I'll be out on my ass with my reputation gone."

Jacob was horrified, "No, I won't let that happen."

Rachel reached out to cup his cheek. "There will be consequences for you too."

"What, they'll fire me too?"

Rachel shook her head at his naivety. "No, you're too valuable an asset. But you'll have to face the gossip." She took a deep breath, "and there'll be lots of gossip. Everyone will speculate on when, how, our affair started; how long we were lovers, before we got caught." She almost smiled at the look of horror on Jacob's face.

"How will our being married protect you?" he asked.

Rachel faced him squarely. "I'm hoping your friendship with the Director will protect me when they find out."

Jacob's brow creased. "You think Frank will try to let you keep your job if we're actually married?"

"No, but it's one thing to kick Special Agent Rachel Young out on her ass, ruining her reputation; making her the subject of salacious gossip." She smiled at him crookedly, "I'm hoping he'll have second thoughts about doing the same thing to Mrs. Jacob Hood." To her surprise, Jacob burst out laughing.

Jacob leaned across the table to kiss her. "Rachel, you're brilliant."

It was Rachel's turn to look puzzled. "I am, why?"

"You're reading of Frank is perfect. Trust me, I've known the man for years, and you're right."

Jacob's cheeks turned slightly pink. "He knows how much I'd hate it, how it would hurt me, to have people talk about you, about us. To have them saying, well…" Jacob took a deep breath. "He knows I'll quit the Bureau in a heartbeat if anything like that happens. He'll bend the rules as much as he can to keep gossip from circulating about my wife."

Rachel took his hand, "I'm not expecting him to break the rules for me Jacob, because we're married, only that he'll let me resign; let me go quietly without anyone knowing the reason why."

Jacob nodded, "I know, sweetheart." He smiled, "I have to say, I like the idea of me protecting you for a change."

Rachel's reply was cut short by the ringing of her cell phone. Glancing at the display, her eyes widened. "Speak of the devil."

"Hello, sir. What can I do for you? What?" She glared at Jacob. "No, sir, I didn't know, I'll have him call you immediately. Oh…" Rachel looked at Jacob sadly. "Yes, … I understand… I'll take care of everything. Oh, I see… Good night, sir."

"What did Frank want?" Jacob asked as Rachel pocketed her cell phone.

She sighed. "We have to go back early. The Director has been trying to call you." She pursued her lips disapprovingly, "apparently your cell phone isn't switched on."

Jacob grinned unrepentantly, "It's my weekend off. I tried to turn your phone off too."

Rachel shook her head. "He has to testify Monday before some sub-committee, something about the case in Ohio last December. He wants to go over the notes, case file with you."

Jacob's brows drew together. "Why do we have to leave early?"

"Our original flight had us getting in tomorrow night; he wanted more time to go over things with you. He had Felix change our return; we leave here at dawn, get into DC in the early afternoon." Rachel glanced at her watch and sighed. "I figure we'll need to leave the hotel by 3:30 a.m. I guess that answers the question of how we spend our last night in San Francisco."

Jacob kissed her lightly as they left the bar. "I don't know," he murmured, "room service and early to bed? Sounds good to me."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Several hours later, Rachel and Jacob lay among the tangled sheets of their bed. "Jacob, baby," she mumbled. "We should get some sleep. We have to get up in…" she pushed up off his chest to squint at the clock on the bedside table, "too soon."

Jacob gathered her closer, "fine, but you know you can always sleep on the plane."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Then it was morning and they were boarding yet another plane. After take-off, Jacob pushed up the armrest separating him from Rachel and put his arm around her. She tried to pull away.

"Jacob, what are you thinking" she said uneasily.

"I'm thinking," Jacob said firmly, "of re-focusing. Remember?" He continued patiently. "You identified yourself to those attendants as a federal agent, right?" Rachel nodded. "Well, what did you say about me?" He looked at her expectantly.

Rachel looked surprised. "Uh, well, I didn't say anything."

Jacob nodded. "No, you never do, I've noticed that. You never tell anyone why I'm with you. They have no reason to suspect you're my bodyguard. The chance of them realizing who and what we are is infinitesimal." He tucked her head under his chin. "I told you, we need to focus on what's possible. And what's possible right now is for me to hold you while you take a nap."

"You're right." She rested her head on his shoulder. "I guess my training makes me a little paranoid."

Jacob snorted, "A little?"

They napped for most of the flight; spending the time they were awake to plan Rachel's move and their upcoming marriage. "I know our marriage will be a secret," Jacob said hesitantly, "but would you mind if I told Alex? After all, she already knows about us. She'll understand…"

Rachel cut him off, "Of course we'll tell Alex, she's your sister."

She hesitated in turn, "we still won't tell my father though. He wouldn't approve, and, well, I wouldn't trust him not to tell the Bureau."

Jacob kissed Rachel's forehead. "All right." Rachel was about to doze off when Jacob nudged her. "What about Felix?"

Rachel's eyes snapped open. "What about him?"

"We've kept him in the dark about us so far, but, well, marriage is different."

Rachel was silent for a long moment. "It might be safer for him not to know."

"What do you mean?"

"When the Bureau does find out they'll pull Felix in for questioning," Rachel explained. "If they discover he knew about us and didn't say anything, it could hurt his career."

Jacob was indignant. "What! They'd expect him to squeal on us!"

"Maybe, maybe not, but I don't think we have the right to ask Felix to put his career on the line for us."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jacob and Rachel were surprised to find Felix waiting at the gate for them.

"Hi, ma'am, Doc," he greeted them cheerfully. "The Director told me to meet you and bring you both straight over to the Hoover Building."

Felix courteously grabbed Rachel's carryon and escorted the pair through the airport. When they reached the SUV parked in the loading zone, he sighed and dropped the keys into Rachel's outstretched hand.

Climbing into the backseat, he began to question Rachel about the trip to Palo Alto. "So, how was California, weather good? Anything interesting happen?"

Rachel met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "I had a fabulous time, Felix. Hood took me to this really romantic French restaurant for dinner and then we went dancing."

A shocked silence filled the car.

Then Jacob's lips twitched. "You forgot about the proposal."

Rachel shook her head. "That's right!" She pulled out into traffic and added, "Yeah, Hood and I are getting married. But don't worry; you don't have to get us a present or anything."

Felix's mouth hung open for a minute; then he snorted with laughter. "Very funny, ma'am. So, I take it the weekend was as bad as you predicted?"

Rachel laughed, "Actually, Felix, it wasn't half-bad."


End file.
